the joke

the only thing i’ll ever need is the 6pm spring light and the smell of the earth baking up from the crust — the warm toffee caress of the glaze of light on the side of your skin — the only thing i’ll ever need is a little bit of freedom and the air wide enough to breathe —


i was struck last night by this lifelong friendship that barrels down the endless curving paths — these people that have become my family; the worlds and ways we’ve all stumbled down, the sorrows we’ve shared together. i am grateful for that. i am grateful for the endless stream of tears that poured out of me last night; the catharsis, the acknowledgment. i am grateful for the beautiful array of sights – for how meaningful the things he touched became / i am grateful for the irreverence and the reverence that his joyous friends showed // i was grateful to be grieving together, all in our own ways, but as a whole, finitely connected in this loss / i am grateful for loss, for the way it wakes you up and shakes you up and gives you perspective on what is important / i am grateful to be allowed to continue to be happy, to be allowed to still find the light / i am grateful for guitar licks and late night laughter and the ring of glasses on black tables – the curvature of light that splinters through the trenton window (which has already endured one shattering and replacement) / i am grateful for how humans find homes inside one another / i am grateful for you, and grateful for your laughter, and your silly ways, laughing at us while a priest tried to barrel his way through the Lord’s Prayer in the face of a bunch of wanderers that knew that the only thing Benny would want would be laughter, a joke, and more music / i am grateful to be trying to still find ways to laugh, and to be able to recognize the joke

acquiescence

I can’t believe how the sacred finds me. How the sacred colored hues of the earth and the sky peel towards me like an entire history written and rewritten without words. I can’t believe the stretch of ocean beneath my feet. The rattle claw lobster head of the cloud jetty that is seizing towards me on the horizon — the endless sacred unfolding that twirls around in a circle with the rotation of the earth, not forwards on some blind, human line. It goes around on an axis, the wheel of this life, you silly thing. Not a linear line. We need more strange shapes to our stories, words, conscious expressions. We need more of that place beyond the words. We need more of the indescribable color of the history of the world sitting on the horizon each night at sunset. Those answers. Those answerless answers which hug the mystery tight and see the words written right in front of our faces. We need more recognition that we created our language – arbitrary, pulling sounds out of the wind and the way our mouth shaped against the air that bounced off the rocks around us. We need more acquiescence to the rhythm of bottomless song.

tuned in

nothing i can say but a thousand metaphors for my aching heart; the riptide; my savaged insides — the ravaging; the raging /
nothing here but bad poetry; and the outline of your face against mine, just waiting endlessly for the other shoe to drop — and now the shoes – a pile in my front yard / my piercing dreams of you – more real than any collection of coins i’ve ever totaled together
// and ow, again, right through my heart; palpable 

funny how death can make spring feel cold and mute ;; the color is still there but not registering anything // the flowers still beautiful but only registering a melancholy of what he’s missing // the numb impossibility of grasping the present

At times thoughts are very far away from one another; you stare at the ground or out the window with no words coming at all — just blank;, you feel carved from the inside;, your interior spooned out like a melon;, scraped off the sides until there is only shell (and thin at that)

i in the magic gardens;; and the vocal sound coming through the telephone toppled me, careened my body into a fumbling pillar of ice, i trembled in every bone and could not stand for the weight of gravity. and yet somehow, every color turned on – turned alight – tuned in;, every gasping curvature of the creation around me seemed to all hum the same note – all everything, everywhere, creation is alight — all everything everywhere, there is nothing to fear but a lack of love. and where there is love, where there is creation, there is life. and i love you still, in memory and in creation. and love shines everywhere, in every corner, reflects back in the tiny pieces of mirror. creation is just the everything where we reside. in this form. and there you are — in the formless freedom of every light now.

what grief feels like

time slows, wheels back like an accordion, fumbles for the door keys. memories crystallize in the moment, no longer present but past, all changing colors and meaning now, now the only last strands to grasp, now an array in a timeline which has a finite point at the end, now a riddle of human love splayed backward out of order;; the brain is clogged by memory, by questions, by filling in the blanks;; the sounds screech, the colors blow out, the feeling of the wind on your cheek feels immense; tangible — then the crash;; the grappling numbness — a rapture firming inside your bones, dead-faced, stone-cold, energy at an all-time low. molasses feet, your flesh carrying so much weight. then the rippled laughter at some little memory. then the tears just rushing; oxygen, oceanic, somehow endless — how is there this much water in your face? how do your eyes have this many tears behind them? how is it so easy / how is it so hard to stop them // then the guttural sounds: ugly, ratcheded breathing, the ache in the chest, the stomach;; the flipping — the waking up feeling, the remembering again feeling;; then the nagging guilt, then the flashes of anger;; then the wheel repeats. then i feel you in the light, the breeze, the air, the chlorophyll, and i know you’re free. and i know you’re peaceful, joyous, rapturous. but still the endless unreality pierces through the circles and cycles, the unstoppable, unbeatable tears, the swells of emotion, the plateaus of nothingness, the firmness of gravity bearing down on your body. your body. your body. and the rip in our space-time hearts. the searing tear.

no more deaths to drugs. no more lost friends. no more tattoos to keep permanent what has danced in and out of view. no more, no more. friends, where does it begin and end?

and then time means nothing. accomplishment means nothing. the only thing that matters is the grace he gave, the love he gave, the light, the support, the inspiration. and all our ego climbs seem empty and worthless. the number of years means nothing, the endless strive towards the future. all that matters is the present, the love, the giving, the creating of community, the reaching out. and he did all of that. everyday. so there is nothing but success in his story. there is nothing but beauty in his memory. and now we begin the immense climb towards the light. towards the creation of something in his image, with his inspiration. to live like that, to build community like that, to be focused on others like that. let’s try, let’s try.

i love you forever. i’d like to be inside your arms one more time. love never dies. and love multiplies endlessly. you become everything now, you give everything now, everyone should be shaken open by love now. and your work goes on and on. love and community. we’ll remember. and we’ll give it around and around. let’s build. let’s love. forever.